


what are you afraid of?

by dongguacha



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: After season 1, Angst, Canon Continuation, Cute, Fluff, Hot And Tense Staring, M/M, One Shot, Stupid assumptions, a kiss??? omo, fixing up the mess, full circle?, healthy communication while not intoxicated? yes please, idiots to lovers tbh smh, one f word beware, pining and yearning yearning and pining, plants plants and more plants, yearn to the ing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dongguacha/pseuds/dongguacha
Summary: Ram and King finally talk about their feelings (while sober thank god), but not without three aeons of yearning and stupid assumptions first.- Ram brings his hand up to the side of King’s face gently, barely a flutter of contact, and in an equally small voice, “What are you afraid of?”King’s lips tremble. He shudders. Swallows. Once. Twice. And breaks. -
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 182





	what are you afraid of?

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO THERE I NEED CLOSURE. Don’t get me wrong, I think it was a pretty tasteful open ending, but like….. my babies….. please. So this is how I really hope they resolve the Ram and King mess at the end of season one (preferably early on or there will be tears).

Ram rests his head on his hands, eyes fixed on the door of King’s condo. His body is still but his mind paces ceaselessly. Each small sound from beyond the door sends a cold lash into his chest, turning the air frigid in his throat. But the door remains closed.

He shifts in his seat, reaching out in front of him to tap the top of his little venus flytrap. Ram tears his gaze from the door, looking instead at the plant with the same intensity. Where are you? He asks in his head. He cups the pot in one hand, turning it slowly with his thumb, and he remembers how King’s head had fit in the curve of his palm, like a key in a lock. He traces the edge of the pot with his finger, and all he can feel is King’s soft hair between them, his warmth.

Ram lets out a sigh, his breath cold and empty on his lips. He can’t help but miss the feeling of King on them too, the force with which he had gripped the back of his neck, the way he pressed himself into Ram like he couldn’t get close enough.

He jolts up, running his hands through his hair. _Oh my god_.

Ram paces physically now, walking slowly around the room. He trails his fingertips over the leaves of King’s beloved plants. He pats the pale pink petals of a flowering cactus, imagining King’s face lit up with adoration as he watches the little bud bloom. He blows the dust off a long leaf, one that King would normally wipe meticulously with a cloth. His eyes fall on a little fern, which he had seen King water only in carefully measured drops.

Ram reaches a hand towards the plant. It recoils, leaves folding in as if shy. Ram flinches, and he hears King’s strained voice again, _It tortures me!_

A thump crashes through his wandering thoughts. Ram turns to find King in the doorway, hands loose over the top of the bag he had dropped to the floor. 

Neither speaks for a long time. In the absence of new words, Ram’s head replays those he can’t stop thinking about again. 

_It tortures me._

_Do you know how hard I have to hold myself back every time I am near you? It tortures me._

_That’s why I want you far away from me. So I don’t have to feel all this pain inside..._

_And then you knocked out and don’t remember anything afterwards, right? Good._

_Good._

_Good._

That one simple word grips Ram’s heart. _Should I just forget?_ But he doesn’t want to lose even that. That lie. That something turned to nothing. _But can you lose something you never had?_

Like habit, King is first to break the silence, “Hey, uh, Ram.” 

His smile is awkward, more like a movement of muscle than an expression of emotion. He’s stuttering now, the words stumbling over each other, “I got your message, and, yeah I… I got your message. So you weren’t drunk huh? Ni- nice. Nice. Great alcohol tolerance.” He laughs emptily.

Ram stares into King, searching for something, _anything_ that will tell him what he wants, _yearns_ , to hear. King avoids his eyes, his next words tumbling out barely coherent, “Well, if you weren’t drunk. Then, then, _I_ was. Okay? I was drunk.” 

Ram digs his nails into his palms. _A drunken mistake_.

“I was drunk. My heart, no, no my head, hurt. I was drunk and not thinking straight and then I fucked up and kissed you and had the audacity to feel _so_ _good_ and-”

King freezes, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. “Oh god-”

That is all he needs. 

“Look at me.” Ram has crossed the room in two strides, leaning down so he’s level with King’s face. King bites his lip, eyes still trained on the floor. 

“P’King, look at me. Please.”

King’s heart bleeds at those soft words, coming from this soft boy in front of him. This soft boy he’s already so helplessly _gone_ for, who he can’t bear the thought of disappointing. He exhales, using the escaping air to push his head up to meet Ram’s gaze. 

Ram stares, unblinking, his eyes molten onyx. King melts in them. 

Ram brings his hand up to the side of King’s face gently, barely a flutter of contact, and in an equally small voice, “What are you afraid of?”

King’s lips tremble. He shudders. Swallows. Once. Twice. And breaks.

“I’m afraid. _God_ I am so afraid.”

He pauses, because what should he say first?

“I’m afraid of how I search for you at the university each day. I’m afraid of the way I laugh only with you. For you. Like I do around no one else. I’m afraid of the flowers I want to put in your hair, the tattoos on your body I want to trace with my fingertips. I’m afraid of the secrets on the tip of my tongue each time you’re close to me. I’m afraid of how I’m not scared of falling, because I know, like a fool, that you’ll catch me everytime. Like you are now.” 

King’s eyes are glassy as he takes a thin breath. Heat washes over Ram’s neck. He traces a shaky line under the corner of King’s eye with his thumb, catching the tears that spill over.

“I’m afraid of how comforting it is to sit with my shoulder against yours. I’m afraid of how undeserving I am of you. You and your words. I’m afraid of how you’ve become the only one I want to understand, the only soul I want to see. I’m afraid of how much you trust me. And I’m afraid that the more you see _me_ , the more you’ll find that I’m not who you want me to be. That perfect ‘king’ that everyone thinks I am.”

At this, Ram pushes King’s head into his shoulder with one hand, pressing his cheek to the top of the boy’s head. He whispers into King’s hair, “You are everything I want because you are… you, and you are here, in front of me.” 

King’s arms hang by his sides, heavy, pent up feelings cascading over him like water running down his body. He speaks into Ram’s shoulder, “I’m afraid of how my heart thunders in my chest when you say those _beautiful things to me_. I’m afraid of how easily I believe them. I’m afraid of how cold I feel when your arms aren’t around me. I’m afraid of what I want to do with you, what I want you to do with me, when you're lying next to me, in my bed, in this room.”

He’s breathing heavily, swaying into Ram’s touch. Ram places his other hand on King’s shoulder, steadying him, like he always has. 

“I was afraid too. I was afraid that you would recoil when I touched you. That you would fold in when I said your name. I was afraid, so, _so_ afraid that you didn’t want me the way I wanted you.” 

Ram holds King’s face up to his with both his hands, and his eyes are alight, “But I’m not afraid now. Of anything.”

He brings their lips together with the force of his entire being. They kiss, and it’s the only thing that matters. King knots his fists into the back of Ram’s shirt. They kiss, and they _feel_ each other, hot and blissful and alive in each other’s grasps. King slides his hands down to Ram’s waist, pressing the boy into him. They kiss, with their tears wetting the other’s cheeks. They kiss, and those fears are a thousand miles away.

Ram pulls himself from King, and presses their foreheads together. King grips Ram’s wrists, still on either side of his face, eyes slowly opening.

“I like you, idiot.” Ram murmurs against King’s mouth, smiling.

King laughs a breathless, sparkly laugh, “I liked you first, Ai’Ning.”

“As if.” 

\- BONUS SCENE -

Ten minutes. It has been ten whole minutes since King had arrived at the door of his _own_ apartment. 

But he has to think this through, do this right. This wasn’t just whether or not he should push aside his own roaring heart anymore; it was also about the way Ram had kissed him back. The way he could still feel the strength of his grip even through a drunken haze. The way they had fallen asleep, collapsed with his face and Ram’s heart inches apart. Or had he imagined it? 

_Damn alcohol._ King shook his head, flexing his jaw. Ram probably regretted it. A lot. Otherwise, why would he have pretended not to remember this morning? 

_I wasn’t drunk last night._

King runs a hand through his hair. He hates the hope that phrase gave him. But he doubts just as much as he wishes it was true; Ram’s words had always stunned him, meant more than they were intended to. This… this was no different. An effort to make King feel better about accosting him. Like how looking after King was repayment for letting his dogs stay in his room. 

As the strands of hair fall into place again, his bleak conclusions fall into place too. He heaves a sigh, but hesitates as he reaches a hand towards the door handle, arm weighted down by the crushing force of his feelings.

Feelings that had grown, still grow, like seedlings in his chest and vines through his veins. Now their roots are strangling him, squeezing his heart until it hurts, _aches_ for a glimpse of that tall, tattooed figure. 

King finally steps into his apartment. He would leave the thorn embedded in his side. If only because he couldn’t bear the pain of it being ripped from him. He looks up to see Ram, fingers hovering over a plant, face softened like it never was around anyone else. King can feel his guard dissolving as he stares at him from behind a row of plants. 

It was that day at the library all over again, peering through the shelves, engrossed by a pretty stranger.

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself blush profusely with my own writing (yes i'm a soft stan what about it) lmao. So… questions for you lovely readers, since it’s kinda brought up: Who liked the other first? When did they both start liking each other? Comment below!!!


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